Every night when I go for my walk ever since my doctor told me I have to walk or die, I walk down Oxford Street past a factory that takes up an entire city block. Half that space is parking lot, storage for trucks, etc., and the other half is this great building that looks like what I imagine the largest ship in the sea must look like at night. Lights everywhere, inside and out. And the noise that comes from the open windows is a calming, nice sound, not jarring at all.
It is the sound of human beings making things. From stacks on the roof rises some sort of mist, whether smoke or steam, I can’t tell. But that just makes it even more like an old ship.
On the grounds outside under a bunch of young trees is a picnic table and on nice evenings there are usually workers on their breaks, laughing, having a cigarette, eating a snack. It makes me feel good to see this scene every night as I march by on my life-saving trek.
I worked in a couple of factories when I was young and I have to say, I don’t think I had the pleasant feelings about them that I do about the factory near my home. And it makes me feel bad that come the end of this year, this big, beautiful ship will be pulling into the harbour for the last time, never to go sailing again.
FRAM, which makes auto filters, has been in my hometown of Stratford for longer than I’ve been alive, but you know how it goes – bought by a big company a few years ago and we all know what big companies do. They go where they can pay people less and where the environmental rules are more lax.
What a shame for the people who will be left behind by these profit-seeking nomads. My neighbour across the street has worked there for years but she saw the writing on the wall a long time ago and has been preparing for a second career. Still, you can tell she’d rather not have to move on.
And soon I’ll have to walk by a big, darkened building and watch the windows get smashed one by one and the graffiti appear along with the grass in the cracks of the parking lot pavement. And no more smokers at their picnic table. Some of those women were not too hard on the eyes. (I didn’t just write that.) But the only thing that never changes is that everything always changes so I guess I’ll just have to suck it up and keep on walking and not dying.
©2011 Jim Hagarty
(Update 2024. Where I saw a big loss, other people saw possibilities. Thirteen years after I wrote the above story, there now sits on that same city block a construction company administrative building, an emergency vehicle headquarters, a large and very nice two-storey medical centre, a two-storey office building, four three-storey apartment buildings and a recreation centre to serve the residents of those buildings. I have never seen anything redeveloped so well. I was sad because I am a sentimental one, but I am glad that others with vision and ambition never looked back. Our city is being well-served.)
